His whole life, Boris had been a walking shame. An omega born to a male alpha and a female alpha—something rare, something whispered about.
They hadn't celebrated his birth. They'd waited. And hoped. That maybe his wolf would manifest as something strong. Something worthy. But instead, it came slim, silver, and female. Worse, she burned with heat monthly, wild and restless. And with that, Boris became the family's quiet disgrace.
They managed him for potential. Then hated him for what he was.
But Boris refused to be useless. He refused to vanish. So, he became a healer. He studied really hard. He trained until his bones ached. And even when they sneered, even when they looked at him like filth, they still came to him when they needed healing.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
And then came the mate bond.
Alpha Malakai Hanover.
A man Boris had never met, only felt a golden thread of the mate bond tugging at his soul, attached to.
His own family was horrified. A man? A mate bond? The shame doubled. An omega? Gay? Foolish and weak? And to such a powerful alpha? Disgraceful!
They forced the bond to be severed. Not a word of protest from Malakai. No message. No contact. Not even curiosity.
They didn't care that it shattered something in Boris and that it would hurt as he was just a mere weak omega. They never asked what he wanted.
Now, pinned against this stranger's chest in the dark, skin flushed, heart pounding, everything inside him snapped. Maybe it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was heat. Or maybe it was the first time Boris felt like he could choose to be freely what he was for who he was without being shamed.
A surge of rebellion flooded him. Years of restraint shattered like glass.
"Take me from the back," Boris whispered, his voice cracked open like a wound.
This was his moment. His fall. His fire. His choice. He didn't resist.
He gave in—to the curse, to the heat, to the identity he was always told to bury. A gay omega. A broken mate. A healer who didn't want to be saved.
And as the stranger's hands found him, Boris surrendered. He surrendered to the ache, the burn, and the beginning of something raw and ruinous.
~~~
It was still dark when the stranger pressed a soft kiss to Boris's neck where there was now a mark from a big bite. His voice, husky with satisfaction, brushed over Boris's skin like smoke. "You will be my mate. My Luna."
Then he was gone. No name. No explanation. Just that sentence hanging in the air like a vow or a mistake.
Boris stayed there, slumped over the mirrored table, his waist sore, his body humming with a strange ache that wasn't just physical. The glass was cold against his skin.
"Luna?" he murmured, a bitter laugh catching in his throat. "Does he not see I am a man?"
Before he could think more, his phone vibrated against the table, nearly toppling off.
He grabbed it and pressed it to his ear. A panicked voice came through: "Omega Boris, there's been a clash between the Western Wind Pack and the Crescent Fall Pack. Multiple wounded. We need every hand we can get. Bring your suppressants—they help with the wolf's bane burn injuries."
He composed himself quickly, switching into his healer's voice. Calm and professional. "Understood. I'll be there in minutes."
When the call ended, he sat still for a few beats, staring into the dim reflection of the cracked mirror.
It wasn't a dream.
The soreness between his thighs, the sticky confirmation on his skin, the ruin of the dress room—it all told the same story.
He'd really done it. He said screw it to everything and given himself to a stranger. It was the boldest, stupidest, most freeing thing he had ever done. But now wasn't the time to process that.
He forced his body upright, wincing, and went to his private cabinet to grab the suppressants.
***
Back in the dressing room after returning, the scene of last night's rebellion lay scattered in disarray. Broken vials, a toppled chair, a cracked mirror with a smudge of blood on its edge. He clenched his hands at the memory.
"Omega Boris," came a voice at the doorway.
Queen Dupont, always regal in her tone, stepped inside with a faint smile. She was a beta, way better than him as she was every man's desire. "I heard you saved several lives again. Especially thanks to those suppressants of yours."
Boris smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yes. My suppressants, Beta Queen."
Was she mocking him? Or being polite? He couldn't tell.
"You should rest," she said, walking further in and raising a brow at the state of the room. "I was resting all night while you were busy. Now that I'm active, you go rest."
Her eyes swept across the damage to the mirror. "What happened here?"
He turned slightly, keeping his expression neutral. "I was in a rush. The mirror's been needing repairs for weeks. And… since you're active now, maybe you could help clean up."
Queen gave him a curious look but didn't press. She bent down to pick up a few scattered items.
Boris didn't wait, he shuffled out, trying to hide the stiffness in his step. His whole lower body throbbed with every motion. He needed rest. And distance.
But before he could disappear, two figures appeared at the end of the hall—one was the head healer, the other, unmistakably, was Ralph, Beta to Alpha Malakai.
The head healer gestured toward the dress room. "She's the only female healer who was here on duty last night, Beta Queen."
Queen looked up, surprised. "Me?"
Ralph stepped forward, his expression unreadable. His eyes flashed with recognition and glee. She was surely the one the Alpha was looking for. "Come with me."
Queen blinked, then smiled, uncertain. "Where are we going, Ralph?"
The head healer interrupted before she could get an answer. "Hurry up. It is Alpha Malakai you would keep waiting if you choose to talk."